Three Pieces of a Broken Heart
by Wild-hearts-cannot-be-broken
Summary: Something happened to Stiles. Something big and bad enough that tore him apart in the most literal sense. He barely even talked to his old friends anymore, he wouldn't know why. Some part of him just wanted to catch the killer that had been dropping bodies everywhere in Beacon Hills. Other part, more vicious and fearless, wanted to cause Derek some trouble. And maybe fuck a little.
1. Chapter 1

Derek had been drinking alone at the local bar for a while when he saw him coming in. He didn't usually went into that sort of places, but that day basically obligated him to go forget it with alcohol.

He followed the boy with his eyes while he moved between the tables and people dancing. His target seemed to be the bar, but some girl caught his attention first and he stayed there dancing. He was sexy, he was kissing the brunette in the neck while holding her back seductively.

Shrugging, he looked away and asked the barman for another beer. He wished he was in the mood for dancing, but he wasn't, and anyway he sucked at it.

'Excuse me.' Derek heard someone saying next to him, after a few minutes. It was the boy. 'I'm gonna need two vodka shots. Wow, uh, better make it three.'

A hand touched Derek's shoulder, making him turn quickly. It was that boy from before.

'I'm sorry. I almost fell.' He said. 'I'm Stiles.'

'Derek.'

'I love your hair.'

'Oh. Thanks. I grew it myself.'

'Obviously.' He smiled. The barman handed him his vodka shots and he swallowed one of them as quickly as it gets. As for Derek, he took a sip of his beer, and when Stiles saw him doing so he replied ' That one's for you.' He pointed to one of the glass shots. 'Figure you need it.'

'Oh. Thanks.'

'Oh. Thanks. That's kind of your thing, right?

'What?'

'I just mean you've said it like twice in a two minute conversation.'

'I'm just not used to being treated this way.'

'That's just sad. Come on drink up!' Stiles sat next to him.

'I thought you were busy down there.'

'So I have caught your eye.' That time, Derek smiled. He drank the vodka, and then tried not to cough.

'It would appear so.'

'She's better without me, if you'd trust that.' Stiles grabbed the other shot and drank it, after having clinked it to Derek's empty shot glass. He made a disgusted face. 'The more we drink the better it tastes, right?'

'You tell me.'

Stiles asked for two more.

'So. I don't see you here much often.' wondered him after he swallowed his third shot vodka and asked the barman for another. He was tall but not very strong, and still he had this grin of confidence all over his face which, being honest, suited him pretty well.

'Bad day.' Derek replied with a shrug. The other boy smile got wider

'Yeah, that's funny, 'cos I only come here on my best days. Quite the celebrating place, y'know.'

'Yeah? And you come here often?'

'All the time.'

'What was it that made you want to celebrate today?'

'Well.' He rested his hand on Derek's leg, near his crotch. Derek looked at it and lick his lips, smiling too 'I haven't celebrated yet, but night's still a child, and I've just met you.'

* * *

The two of them headed to Derek's loft. Stiles was stronger than Derek thought him to be as he bent him into the sofa and grabbed him neck.

'Nice body you got there.' He breathed into his ear 'You an athlete?'

'Librarian.'

'Okay but how on earth do you have a bad day at a library? Kid talked too loud?'

'Want t- hm.' Stiles had just added another finger in his asshole, moving in and out quickly 'Keep guessing?'

'Have you ever had sex in a library desk before?'

'I imagine you did?'

'I have done lots of things.' He said. Stiles removed the fingers, soon to be replaced by his dick. It hurt Derek a little, even with lube, but he said nothing. 'You're such an innocent creature.'


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles wasn't there when Derek got up next morning, as he new would be the case. Despite that, he still searched for a note or something. As he poured milk into his bowl of cereals he still hoped to see Stiles returning with Derek's borrowed keys in one hand and Starbucks in the other. He made a mental note to go back to that bar and see if he was there, and later scratched it because it seemed too stalker-y.

Derek would fantasise about meeting Stiles by chance in the street or seeing him enter in his library and waving hello. What he got instead was deputy Parrish.

'Can I talk to the person in charge?' he asked after the hello.

'Yeah. That would be me. Are you here because of the corpses?'

'I'd expect so. Have you committed any illegality I should know?'

'Not since yesterday.'

'I'm not entirely sure I like the disinterests with which you speak about the dead body that was found near the back door of your library.'

'I'm sorry. I'm actually not the insensible jerk, I just- Never mind.' He shook his head. Derek wondered if Stiles would laugh of his inability to properly talk to a police agent. 'So do you want to ask anything?

'Just a couple of questions. You were the one finding the body, right?'

'Yes.'

'How did that happen?'

'I had just opened and I was expecting some books to arrive, so I thought it was better to go unlock the backdoor, that's where they usually come in.'

'And you saw the body.' Parrish finished, writing something in his police notebook. 'I'm sorry I have you ask you this, but can you describe the way in which you found it?'

'I thought some of yours had been here taking pictures.'

'We need to be sure we got it right.'

'I unlock the door, and first thing I noticed was the smell. Then, I saw a car across the street all dented with the window glass shattered. Then I saw a liquid coming from the car and I thought could be gasoline except I looked close and it was red and it was blood and it was obviously not coming from the car and I gave another step and behind the car there was a-' he breathed in. The image was still pretty fresh in his mind 'A dead body. And it was completely- Shred open. It was awful.'

It had been a girl. A blonde young girl, who probably didn't got to finish high school and now was a bit too late. Her face was barely recognizable and her chest and belly were but a huge pile of flesh and blood. An arm and both of her legs were broken, so the police would have guessed she was being chased by the killer and/or fell from the ceiling. After seeing her body, Derek barely contained himself enough to find the bathroom, vomited in the toilet and was still pretty shocked when he called the police and described the situation.

'What are you thinking?'

'Animal attack. Unfortunately, not the first. Not the second either. And I reckon we won't see the end of it for a long time.'

'Is there anything I can do?'

'I don't think so.'

Derek hesitated.

'I suppose give it two or three days and the press will be all over the place.'

'Assuming they can wait that long. If it helps, I'm sorry this happened to you.'

'Yeah. Say that to the poor girl's family.'

Parrish nodded his head. He said goodbye, then left.

Yesterday the library was closed all day. Policemen and women were coming in and out, collecting surveillance cameras and checking Derek for a psycho evaluation. He had finished high school two hears ago, never got to go to university, partially because there wasn't anything he was particularly good at, but mostly because his family had died in a fire and he had been putted in charge of the little local library that was his family business, and people somehow still view him as the poor boy with no family.

But today would be different. He'd open the library and let all the nerds in. He rolled up his sleeves, put on the door the sign that said 'open' and sat waiting, picking up his Game of Thrones book, whishing for both Joffrey's death and Stiles arriving.

Neither of them happened. That day, it is.

The cavalry arrived two days later. Cavalry being an ironic name he decided to use for the journalists. He answered to none of them, denied to all of them the so called right to photograph the death scene in order to tell the truth to their readers. He denied it until Parrish arrived on the third day and told him he shouldn't.

'I'm sick of them, I don't want to answer their questions, it's bad just as it is, I have fucking nightmares, I don't want them here, I just want this to be over!'

'Have you considered asking for help? I can give you the name of a psychologist.'

'I just need to be left alone!' spat Derek, just as the door bell tinkled.

'Oh.' The boy said. Derek almost dropped his jaw. 'Did I came in a bad time?'

'Stiles?' Parrish and him said at the same time. They looked at each other. Then back at Stiles.

It may be because at the bar he was drunk, and in an entirely different environment, but he did not have the confident look he did three days ago. His pouty lips were open, forming a surprised expression and he was full of mannerisms. He passed a hand through his hair and then bite the tip of his thumb.

'What are you doing here?' Parrish asked

'I needed a book. This is a library. See the connection?'

'Still a detective, kid.' Parrish looked at Derek. 'I was just wondering if it had no relation with the body that were found in the back.'

'What, body, you say?' Stiles asked, face frowned 'Did they find a body here? Like, a dead body?'

So Stiles wasn't all that good at lying.

'If you hurry up I might give you a lift home.' the detective offered

'Oh yeah, sure.' Stiles looked at Derek almost begging for him to say something, but what? Moments later he looked away, mumbled something that sounded something like 'Lemme just search for it,' followed by a straight forward sentence of only curse words.

Five minutes later Stiles appeared again, neither Derek nor Parrish had said a thing, with a Captain America comic to buy. He handed it to Derek so he could see the prize, but when he opened the book he saw a hand written note. It was Stiles'.

_Don't panic_

_I really shouldn't have started with don't panic, now you definitely going to think something's off, which okay, it might be,, but it doesn't mean you need to panic now, when Parrish's cute lil eyes are watching you like you're candy. Panic later._

_Anyway. I need to talk to you. Urgent. Are you free tomorrow by this hour? There's a small café at the end of this street, they have the best hot cocoa. Yes I'm aware of the weirdness of the situation, just don't say anything. Just nod your head if you agree when you handle me the book. Back flip if you don't._

_Just kidding. But I mean if you can back flip…_

_Okay, I'm going now._

_Thanks. Or sorry. Whatever you rather hear now._

So Derek told him he was a librarian. He might have not mentioned he actually had been an athlete when he was still in school, and he was more than capable of doing a back flip. But he didn't want to, he wanted to see Stiles one more time. The whole secrecy of the moment was spiking his curiosity, and he felt that Stiles was a very peculiar person. He could see he was nervous, but well, so was he. Derek accepted his money and then moved his head just the slightest, so that Parrish wouldn't see.

'Wow, so, ah, Thanks.' Stiles said. He looked surprised, as if it had really been a possibility that Derek didn't agree to the meeting. 'See you around, then.'

'We should be going now, right Stiles?' wondered Parrish. Derek wondered how that relation worked.

'Yes, right.' He bit the tip of his tongue. He and Parrish left soon enough, leaving Derek wondering what kind of game was he playing? I mean, was it some kind of a flirt?

He read the note again. Stiles had left no indication he wanted to repeat what happened the other night, no indication he even acknowledged it. Stiles was a very peculiar person, indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

Anger.

And power.

Those were the first things the beast could feel. In that moment, he was immortal, indestructible, insatiable. And he wanted more. Needed more.

Then, he found out he was cuffed. Steel chains were tied up in his wrists and anklets. He couldn't move. If that weakened him, it certainly increased his fury. If he struggled enough, he was sure he could get out. Be free.

He couldn't. He screamed. Someone was bound to hear him.

Someone didn't. No one came to free him.

Then he felt pain. In the wrists and anklets, where the strings were sawing skin deep enough he could see the blood, in his chest, in his head, for he could not be free after all, for his anger was now too much for him to bear. Stiles should be able to control himself. There had been a time, too long ago, where he could. There had also been a time where he was able to feel happiness, and because nothing was permanent, not even himself, that time had been over.

He fell on thee floor, his arms stretched behind his back. Stiles tried to move out of that painful position, but later decided pain numbed the anger. He hadn't stopped screaming yet. He did then, breathing hard, swallowing as much air as he could. He knew it was humanly impossible for one to keep oneself from breathing. He had tried anyways, because Stiles clearly wasn't a human. He knew as well he didn't have the psychological strength to kill himself, there was some part of him, one so small he didn't consciously knew it was there, that wanted to be alive. To feel power and to be angry.

But he didn't feel power then. Only pain.

Stiles regained conscience only when it stopped, at, he checked, four or five am. He was still bound by the chains. So he didn't kill anyone.

That day.

People were dropping dead all around the city. There were days where he didn't change at all, but he chained himself every night anyway, just to be sure, and in those days where he didn't change, he had books at his reach he could read to spend time, or even sleep a little, but not being there wasn't an option. He had woke up in the chamber, two days ago, but not cuffed to the wall. Had he killed anyone then? Could he not remember if he did? Was it possible – for anyone – not to know if they were a murderer?

He broke his hand so he could get of the chains, knowing it would heal in a matter of minutes. Then he reached for the key and freed himself from the rest. He stood up, and left the chamber that was his bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek was unsure about a lot of things that morning.

Whether he should dress normally for another day of work or in a more black-leather-jacket-badass-super-confident way was amongst his first worries.

Ultimately, he decided for a buttoned purple shirt and trousers. Nothing too fancy. It was just a meeting, for Christ sake. If things evolved from there, he was fairly sure clothes wouldn't be in the way.

He spent the whole day wondering what Stiles wanted to talk about, or if talk was just a hint for another thing. The day could not have taken longer to pass. Two kids had spill chocolate milk into a table and a woman couldn't keep his toddler from crying, not to mention the ever so un-tired couple of journalists.

Derek ended up closing the small library early and went to the café like half an hour earlier. He were still to finish Game of Thrones and decided to try one of the hot cocoa Stiles had advocated for.

'They all die in the end.' The familiar voice said. Derek looked up and saw Stiles, his mouth covered in flour from the abnormally large sandwich he was holding in one hand. In the other one he had a hot cocoa for himself and his phone. Derek closed the book. 'Spoiler alert.'

'Should I take that as a knowledgeable opinion?'

'More like a not so much constructive critic.' Stiles sat. 'It's really not fair, though, authors should not be allowed to write that!' he pointed at the book 'I mean he must hire someone to tell him enough's enough.'

'Point taken.'

'Oh you have no idea.' He took another bite on his sandwich. 'Sorry. I didn't really lunch.'

'It's okay.'

'So, uh.' Stiles started. Derek played with his hands. 'I probably should apologise for that note. It was a bit of a weird thing. But totally necessary.'

'Totally necessary.' Derek repeated, smirking. He waited for Stiles to finish eating.

'Anyway, I wanted to ask you a thing.'

'I'm listening.'

'Yeah, so. I'm sorry, you probably have heard this a lot this last few days, but I have to ask. That girl they've found-'

'What?' Derek's jaw dropped. Smile faded. So that was why Stiles was there, curiosity about a dead girl?

'I know it's awful of me to be asking this, but it's really important.'

'Did you know her?'

'Would it help if I said yes?' Stiles made a face that said Ups. He was acting in a really strange way, almost completely different than the confident and driven person he'd met in the bar.

'You knew Parrish, why didn't you ask him?'

'Wow, your mood dropped like a- Which is understandable, given the circumstances. Anyway, is not that I can ask him, he'd go straight to my father.'

'What motive could he have to rat you out to your father out of curiosity?'

'My father, the sheriff.'

'Your father, the sheriff.'

'Pretty sure that'd be a cool name for one of your books, am I right?'

'They are not my books.' Derek shrugged. Stiles was a bit uneasy, but tried to smile encouragingly as he sad:

'Look, I can't really explain you why this is important to me. But it is. Really a lot.'

Derek looked at his face. So apparently Stiles had a masters degree in grinning and a PhD in puppy dog eyes. Quite the impressive resume. Derek shook his face, hiding a silly smile, and learned that he couldn't deny that boy anything.

'What do you want to know.'

'Everything you can tell me, really.'

'It's easier if you ask the questions. Do you want to sit down? Like, what are you looking for?'

'Did you saw anything out of the ordinary?'

'You mean, besides the dead body?'

That earned him a smile 'I asked for that one, right? Anyways. Did you hear anything or saw anything? You know, the killer?'

'Police is saying it's animal attack.'

'Yes and that's lovely, but I don't really buy it and neither should you.'

'You got any proof to support that theory?'

'I got a high IQ and an amazing intuition, if that counts for anything.'

'I don't think it does.'

'It was worth the shot.'

'Why don't you tell me what you think it is?' Derek decided to ask, leaning the table. Stiles on the other hand, leaned back on his chair, which was not what Derek was hoping for at all.

'Isn't it obvious? It's a person. A blood thirst murderer. Someone who's giving into a lot of effort to make it seem like an animal attack.'

'Why's that?'

'Last week a man in his thirties died. It was identical to all this other deaths you see on the news, except he was found in his completely locked house. They didn't want the press near that one. Police thinks it's a copy cat trying to get away with murder, blaming on the wolves. But we know it's not exactly like that.'

'Do we know, now?'

'You strike me as a fairly clever guy.'

'Gee, thanks.'

'Tell me what you think.'

Derek gave it a try. If Stiles was right and all the murders were connected, like he implied, an animal being to blame was out of the question. But he couldn't know that for sure, and even if he admitted it to be true, there's no way of saying who did it. Derek had truly not seen a thing.

'I don't think I'm the person you should be talking to. No, let me finish.' He asked, because Siles had immediately opened his mouth to disagree. 'Have you talked to the medical examiner?'

'Yes.' He seemed uncomfortable. 'He said there were claw marks, and some hair he was still to identify.' Derek made a 'what more do you want?' face? 'But one of his victims, the first one, had a lot of concussions in his back, due to being thrown against the wall with strength above average. And I mean. I'm thinking detachable thumb.'

'What?'

'Maybe detachable is not the right word, whatever. I mean a thumb that moves and does all the wacky things like grabbing people and throwing them into walls.'

'So what now? abominable snowman goes criminal?'

'Well-' Stiles stopped mid-phrase so his smile could broad and to think for a good comeback. Derek smile got wider too, because he knew he had won that round. 'Your teeth are really white and straight.'

'Thanks. I think.'

'Sorry I don't really know when to shut up.'

'You've complemented me three times since you've met me. I'm counting.' He joked. 'It's okay.'

'I have to go, but…' he took a pen of his trouser pocket, Derek did like people who carried pens or pencils around, and wrote something. Then gave it to Derek. 'Have my number. If you remember anything could you tell me?'

'I don't… Yeah. Sure.'

'Thanks.' Stiles stood up 'And by the way, not being cocky or anything, but I only complimented you twice.' He seemed very proud of himself. 'So there's that. See you.'

'I'm pretty sure they were three!' Derek even said, but a bit too late and Stiles didn't hear it. Derek shook his head. Stiles was unbelievable.

Well, he still got his number. Maybe he'd give Stiles a call.


End file.
